


Like Father, Like Son: An ATLA FanFiction

by EraserJester



Series: Sad Prince Tellings: ATLA FanFictions [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Chit Sang is Amazing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Gen, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Light Angst, Loss of Identity, Mentioned Ozai (Avatar), Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, Zuko (Avatar) whump, Zuko (Avatar)-centric, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, i think, identity crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:00:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29771703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EraserJester/pseuds/EraserJester
Summary: Zuko and Azula grow up with the unfortunate luck of looking like their parents. Zuko and Ozai harbour the same structure and jaw, while Azula suspects her servants are purposely doing her hair the same way Lady Ursa did. It's killing both of them, on the insides. Both of them hate it, so, so, much, and they can do nothing.Sometimes, Zuko is pathetically grateful for his disfiguring scar; otherwise, he would have been the spitting image of Ozai. He can't imagine how his sister feels.Hakoda steps in, at the Western Air Temple and even after Zuko is crowned Fire lord, to assure him that he will never be his father.
Series: Sad Prince Tellings: ATLA FanFictions [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2188119
Comments: 4
Kudos: 95





	1. Looks, Not Actions

**Author's Note:**

> Zuko having an identity crisis seems sort of probable to me, to be honest. The kid's been through a lot.

Zuko looks terrifyingly similar to Ozai.

When he was younger, this was public knowledge. The nannies and servants gossiped to no end. There was no doubt Zuko was Fire Lord Ozai's son and heir to the throne.

But while he was the spitting image of Ozai, his heart was as large as his mother's own.

He would often scare the servants by opening his mouth, asking for something-and instead of Ozai's cruel tone, it was a sweet and kind request. He had unnerved more than one noble with his father's looks and childish voice when he was younger.

It was the opposite with Azula.

When she called servants into her room they were kind and fussy, fawning over her mother's looks on her chubby, babyish face. But over the years Zuko began to see the servants looking more and more frightened each time they visited Azula's room.

When Zuko was ten, he used to hide from his father. He used to feign sickness when his father was visiting classes. Zuko knew all the best places to hide from tutors and fathers alike, from the cabinet under Lady Ursa's room to the kitchen, where the cooks never uttered a word.

Azula always (skillfully, of course) excused herself from the same room as her mother. Perhaps it was more of a mental toll than physical, to gaze at a face that was almost identical to hers.

Zuko felt fear, when he glanced at his father's cruel expressions. Of what he might grow into. It was a fear from the first day he stared into a mirror.

Azula felt a cold sharp thing that dug and twisted her heart, whenever she looked over at her mother fussing at Zuko. She always looked away rather fast. Azula would toy with her hair later, recalling Lady Ursa's numerous hairstyles throughout the day, and vow never to wear them.

Prince Zuko and Princess Azula were definitely the children of the Royal couple.

Once, Azula found Zuko hiding. She had been leaving the room her mother was in, and wanted a place to.. _relax_.

Okay, fine.

She was hiding, too.

"Zu-zu?"

She heard a sharp intake of breath, under an office table on the other side of the room. Azula walked by, noting how the table seemed to shake. She bent down.

"Hello, dum-dum. Hiding again?"

"Yes" he said bluntly. He was still rather small and could hide under the chair with no problem.

Azula toed his little form with the tip of her boot. "Move over, then."

Her older brother was too surprised to protest, and so he moved over just like Azula told him to. It was slightly uncomfortable now, and the siblings didn't have much room for other than just crouching.

"..How long are we going to stay like this, Azula?"

"As long as the servants keep on telling us we have our parent's faces, Zu-zu" she replied sourly.

They didn't stay that long.

—-

At night, on Zuko's ship, when the lanterns are extinguished and Zuko's scar isn't so visible, Iroh swears his nephew looks more like his little brother every day. His face is angular and smooth, with a strong jawline identical to Ozai's that only grows more pronounced each day.

But that makes it all the more horrifying.

When Iroh stares at Zuko's sleeping face, devoid of a scowl and his constant furrow in his forehead, he realizes Zuko inherited Ozai's temper, too. He has Ozai's frantic passion, and it does not bode well with his mother's kindness.

The scar that covers his face is proof of it.

Sometimes Iroh slips up, and says 'Ozai' without thinking about it.

The first time was almost two years into Zuko's banishment.

The Prince had a foul temper that day and he was in a right mood, stomping around and yelling for things that couldn't be done.

"What do you mean we can't get to the nearest port by sundown?!"

Jee tried to keep his temper with the unruly fifteen year-old. "The wind isn't our favourite today, Your Highness, we-"

"I don't care about the wind! Just get it done!" This was when Iroh had stepped in, as gentle and unassuming as ever. "Zuko, we need to take into account the weather, no one can change it-" and Iroh had laid a gentle hand on Zuko's shoulder.

But Zuko had shrugged it off, as angry and mad and unsure as he always was. Ozai had been like this too, before his overwhelming ambition and cruelty had warped him, into a little brother Iroh didn't recognize. "I don't need to take that into account" Zuko had seethed. "I just want to be in port, you-"

"Calm yourself, Ozai. You need to relax, brother-" He realized his mistake too late.

The ship was dead quiet. None of the guards made a sound. Lieutenant Jee ducked his head and looked away.

Iroh took in a breath. The colour had drained from his face. "Leave us." He did not need to face Jee for the Lieutenant to know who he was speaking to.

Jee fell into a bow, eager to get away from the royal spat. "Of course, Your Highness. Men! Below decks."

None of the guards looked sorry to leave.

Zuko's face was stone, unreadable. The only telltale sign were his hands, shaking beside him. Iroh was once again reminded of Ozai's explosive anger.

"Nephew-"

"Stop."

Iroh did.

When Zuko spoke again, his words were harsh. "You think I look like him?" His voice cracked with youth at the end.

"Zuko, I didn't mean-"

"No. Stop." Zuko strode (more like stomped) to his rooms. "I-I just-I don't want to talk to you."

It hurt Iroh more than it should have, but perhaps he deserved it.

Zuko stayed in his room for three days. He didn't leave for meals, but Iroh made sure to leave a plate of food in front of his nephew's door. They would always be cold and untouched when he came back to collect them.

Over time it became one of the things they didn't talk about.

Like how Zuko cried at night.

How his sobs echoed around the small ship.

—-

The second time Iroh slipped, was more than a year later. Zuko had (almost) forgotten the first time.

They were in the Earth Kingdom as refugees, and a man had been bothering them in Pao's tea shop. He had been the kind of fellow that would rile you up until you would snap, and he would get zero blame and a refund.

Thus, Zuko was one of his easier targets.

The man had been at the tea shop, nursing (more like loitering) a cup of tea that had gone cold long ago.

"Pretty eyes you've got there, Lee" Bohi would say out of the corner of his mouth. "Rather golden, ain'tcha?"

Zuko ignored him. Tried to.

"I bet you don't like to talk 'bout your father, eh?" Bohi grinned lazily, already knowing what would happen next. "Where's he now? In the Fire Nation barracks, probably-leaving a poor colony wretch to bear his children, no doubt-"

This was when Zuko would break the cups he was holding. And the shards would fall to the floor with a crash. And Pao would glare at him.

Iroh would treat his nephew's bleeding hands in the back. He would rub salve into the small cuts and bandage them.

But this time, Zuko was a little more vocal.

"That-That horrible man, he doesn't deserve to have our tea-"

"I know, Zuko, I know-"

But it isn't enough. Anger is not handled well in the Royal Family. Ozai could never contain his fury, either.

"No, you don't, Uncle, you don't know what it feels like-"

—-

_Many, many years ago, Ozai's rooms, Fire Nation_

Ozai stomps around his room, and scrolls fall down in his wake. The servants will clean that later.

Iroh sits at Ozai's desk, a face of concern. "What's it this time, brother?"

"It's some stupid advisor who thinks he knows the Fire Nation better than me" Ozai grumbles and his eyes are so narrowed and his lips so thin they are a very scary look on the sixteen year-old's face, a foreboding to his adult accomplishments. "I've studied more scrolls than that man will ever have, Father should take my opinion over mine, obviously-"

Iroh sips his tea. It is no use trying to calm Ozai when he is in one of his rages like this, so wound up. More often than not, Ozai's fury ends with broken porcelain and bloody palms. Then the Second Prince would seethe while Iroh silently bandaged his little brother's hands.

"Well, the advisor is many years older than you and I together, Ozai" Iroh pipes up, five minutes later and when he thinks Ozai has calmed down. "-perhaps he is wise and thoughtful in his actions-"

"No, he isn't, Iroh, you _don't understand_ -"

—-

_Pao's tea shop_

"Ozai, you must relax" Iroh says firmly to Zuko, back in the tea shop. He hasn't realized his mistake yet. The past haunts him, even now. "Azulon asked for that advisor to be at the meeting, Ozai, you need to show respect-"

" _Did you just call me_ 'Ozai'?"

Iroh's mouth clamps shut and his face darkens, with sadness and regret. They are alone in the back room of the tea shop, and no one has heard Iroh. The shame is evident enough in his Uncle's eyes but that isn't enough for his nephew.

Zuko leaves the tea shop and doesn't come back until dawn breaks the next day. There is a new pair of Dao in his room along with a bruise on his face.

—-

Hakoda has seen the Fire Lord's face before.

Well, not in person, anyways. If he did the he would probably be dead.

A portrait of the Fire Lord had been hung in the Boiling Rock, quite large so anyone could see it (unfortunately). Hakoda had caught himself staring at it a few times during his short stay at the Rock.

The painting accentuated the Fire Lord's narrow facial structure, and highlighted his jawline. His eyes were cruelly narrowed. Scratch that. Every inch of the man was cruel.

When Hakoda first saw the Prince behind his son dressed in guard gear, the first thought that had across his mind had been Ozai.

When they rode back, Hakoda sneaks many looks at Zuko (Sokka said that was his name). If it weren't for the bold burn scarring half of his face, Hakoda would have thought that was the Fire Lord.

Bato had often remarked how much Sokka looked like Hakoda, and both of them had agreed, albeit a little proudly. Sokka did look like Hakoda, a little bit. He was still (much) skinnier than Hakoda but he had Hakoda's face, although his eyes were wider and more curious, inherited from his mother.

But Zuko.

He was a carbon copy of a parent. Except for the worn and stained simple tunic and pants which a Fire Lord wouldn't be caught dead in, and the messy hair that covered his face, devoid of any ponytail.

It unnerved Hakoda, so to speak. Even though the boy was quiet and had assisted Sokka in breaking them out of the Rock, it was quite terrifying to be rescued by someone who looks exactly like the Fire Lord.

Chit Sang said nothing.

—-

Zuko is breaking every single expectation Hakoda had for him.

Every single day, when Hakoda spots Zuko's face somewhere in the Western Air Temple, he can't help but expect guards to come running, swords up, or a booming voice demanding for Hakoda to be captured.

But no, Zuko does not do any of these things. He just walks around. A lot. Other than training the Avatar in the mornings, a feat Hakoda never thought he would witness a Fire Prince do, he walks around the Temples. Sometimes the little blind girl (Toph, right? It simply boggled Hakoda's mind how that girl was a _Beifong_ of all things-) accompanied him. Usually, he was alone.

Sometimes he trained with Sokka.

Hakoda didn't watch. He was too afraid he would suddenly look at Zuko's face and the word Ozai would come to his mind. Hakoda feared he might do something if he actually sees the Fire Lord's son sparring with his own. They're still boys, anyway. They can't do any real harm, right?

Well, not to each other. But to themselves...

Hakoda and his men have experienced burns. There are faint scars on Hakoda's arms that forever remind him of the wrath of the Fire Nation.

Out of all of his men, Bato has probably held the brunt of the Fire Nation's wrath. He and Hakoda had witnessed Bato's cousin fall to the Fire Nation when they were both young, younger than Sokka. Bato's own son was still a child, who had grown up without a father in the South.

Hakoda had taken a look at Bato's burns, and promptly thrown up the first time they had needed to bandage them. The smell of burning flesh and smoke had been retained by the wooden planks in the ship for weeks. The healer always came to bandage Bato's arms with salve and the same message: not to touch.

Bato told Hakoda it was more itchy than actual pain when his scars were healing. Sometimes he would scratch his skin until it cut open, and the healer would throw a fit when they saw Bato. Hakoda learned to stay by his best friend's side and swat his hands away from his burns.

This memory resurfaces in Hakoda's mind when he sees Zuko sitting by a river, one hand constantly scratching the scar on his face.

The teenager sits straight-backed and stoic even now, by the dirty river. He seems to be thinking.

His hand is red, and there is a single line of blood that snakes its way down the Prince's elbow and falls into the river.

Zuko isn't screaming, that's for sure. He's silent. He doesn't know Hakoda is there yet. He's just...sitting. While he scratches his face. Which is bleeding. A little.

Hakoda coughs into his fist. "Hm."

Immediately Zuko's hand tears away from his scarred eye, revealing pink and red skin that has been scratched away.

"Are you okay?" It is best to play dumb, isn't it? Like Hakoda didn't see him purposefully ripping his skin open a moment before. "Did you scratch yourself?" He hasn't actually spoken to the boy since the Rock. That's probably Hakoda's fault more than anything.

And so, Hakoda is very startled when Zuko clenches his bloody palm and says, in a voice that is not deep enough to be Fire Lord Ozai's, "I'm fine, sir."

It sounds like he is grinding those words against his teeth. But it is not a formidable adult speaking. It is a teenager. One with a burn across half his face, one with blood on said part of face.

"Are you sure?" Hakoda does not want to say 'I saw you scratching your face' nor does he want to call the boy a liar.

"I'm sure." He turns his face back towards the river, hiding his face from Hakoda.

The blood in the river is obvious. So is the blood that has smeared from his hands onto his arms. And the uneven scratches on his face.

"Would you like me to bandage your face? I'm sure-"

"No."

Hakoda did not know if he was feeling exceptionally brave, or exceptionally stupid, when he stood his ground. "Come on. You're hurt. Let's go to my tent, it won't take long." He turns around and prays that Zuko follows him, that he's not going to be incinerated on the spot.

There is the sound of footsteps behind him. Hakoda does not look back. "I share a tent with Sokka, so sorry if it's a bit messy."

—-

The tent is more than a bit messy. Clothes are strewn everywhere, giving off a most unpleasant smell. Maps are rolled up with little to no care and Hakoda needs to caution Zuko to watch his step.

The banished Prince gingerly takes a seat on Sokka's empty cot, staring straight ahead. He hasn't said anything.

It only takes Hakoda a few moments to find the first aid kit, thank Tui. "Your scratches aren't too serious" Hakoda said conversationally, "Just some salve and a bandage is fine."

Zuko still looks straight ahead. His back is straight once more and he does not wrinkle his nose at the sharp smell of herbs in the salve.

"I know the salve smells a little weird, but-"

"It's fine. I've had it before. It's fine" Zuko repeats at the end. It's like he needs to make it clear to Hakoda that he isn't picky.

"Alright."

Hakoda notices that, while Zuko does not flinch from Hakoda's fingers as he applies the salve on his face, he stiffens until his hands are clenched in his lap, and his knuckles are white. His jaw is set and he still does not flinch.

Hakoda screws the jar back on the salve but when he goes to get the bandages Zuko speaks up. "I can do it by myself."

"Sure thing."

The Chief of the Southern Water Tribe watches as Zuko expertly wraps the thin bandage around his face. He ties it not too loose and not too tight, and he cuts the ends of the bandages with great precision.

"It won't scar, like-" Hakoda swallows his words as Zuko directs his scarred face at him. Annoyance flickers in his golden eyes, the ones that are exactly the same as Ozai's. "I know" Zuko says. "I know it won't scar." His voice is creepily regretful.

"...Did you wish it would scar?" Like the burn across your face?

"Maybe. I don't know." Zuko looks away defensively from Hakoda's annoying eyes.

"..." Hakoda pats Zuko on the shoulder. It's supposed to be a comforting gesture, but Zuko stiffens and leans away, like he's expecting a hit. Hakoda retracts his hand rather awkwardly and there is a suffocating air between them.

"You're strong, Zuko. You'll be fine."

These words were clearly meant not just for the scratch on his face. They were meant for the future.

—-

Zuko leaves with little grace, and Hakoda does not know enough about teenagers to follow him.

It is refreshing to know that firebenders bleed the same blood he does.

—-

Zuko has never stabbed himself.

On purpose.

Sometimes he sits in his room, his pearl-handled dagger in his hands. His fingers trail along the side of the blade, scarily close to slicing them open. The hilt of the dagger has been rubbed smooth from years of constant use but the blade is no less shiny.

He doesn't bother reading the inscription because he knows what it says.

Sometimes he pokes his scarred face with the point of the dagger, hard enough to feel the blade but soft enough that it doesn't break the scarred skin.

He lies like that, on the stone slab with a dagger poised at his face. He never flinches.

Blood is never spilt by the dagger.

Zuko always sets the dagger on the ground later. Out of real thoughtful decision, or disgust, he can never be sure. For some reason, he always turns Uncle's little portrait away whenever he handles the dagger. Perhaps even now, when the Dragon of the West has broken out of prison, Zuko cannot help but feel the eyes of his Uncle Iroh on him.

—-

"You're the Crown Prince."

Zuko looks up from the rock he is sitting on, face-to-face with Chit Sang.

Not exactly face-to-face. Chit Sang is standing and his shadow casts over Zuko, but the Prince won't have any of that. He stands up too. "Yeah. I'm the heir to the throne."

Chit Sang gives Zuko a critical look, from Zuko's worn shoes to the sleeves that are frayed at the edges. His gaze stops at Zuko's face, taking in his scar over his eye and his peasant-styled hair.

"What?"

"Nothing. You look less like your father than I thought."

This statement is one of those that are too short and too casual, so that when Zuko finally comprehends the words they feel like a thousand things, all of them too minuscule to name.

Chit Sang has touched a nerve and it is obvious. The Rock Prisoner turns back towards the campfire, where the rest of the Avatar's friends are sitting. Zuko is still not welcome there.

"You'll make a fine ruler, Your Highness." It's something that rushes out of Chit Sang's mouth because he is not familiar with Zuko, he does not know if Zuko is really that different from Ozai, he does not know whether the boy will lash out-

But Zuko says nothing.

He does not believe the words of a prisoner.

Perhaps he will believe an ex-commander of the forty-first division, then.

—-

Hakoda and Chit Sang both thought they were doing just what any elder would do to their successors. They care, and guide, and train.

They have both made a bigger impression on Zuko than any of them have thought.

It could be a trick of the light, but one day, Hakoda sees Zuko cracking the smallest smile while training Aang.

It really is a terrifying sight, to spot a kind smile on Ozai's face, not that Hakoda says anything about it. It's _Zuko_ , after all. Not Ozai.

Right?

—-

When Zuko is twenty years old, he can safely say for sure that he's stopped growing. His sleeves aren't feeling too tight anymore, and his robes drag on the floor like they're supposed to, instead of being embarrassingly ankle-length. His hair has grown out, and it's almost to his waist. Zuko has taken to tying it up in a half-up topknot most days.

He's never looked less like Ozai.

Zuko thought he was almost, sort of warming up to his frightened staff over four years of being Fire Lord but it seems turning twenty has thrown all of those tentative smiles and greetings down the drain.

The newer servants just say nothing and bow, while the residential ones, the ones that have been here since the reign of Ozai almost _run_ from him.

And he does nothing.

He cannot order them to stay.

That is the mark of a cruel Fire Lord.

He cannot plead with them, either.

That is the mark of a weak Fire Lord.

He asks his friends.

Chit Sang is as loyal as ever and, while his words are blunt, he will always be by Zuko's side. That is a loyal commander, after all.

Aang and Katara reassure him, that no, he's nothing like Ozai. They say it's what's on the inside that's valuable.

But Zuko's beginning to think, if all the ambassadors and diplomats that visit the Fire Nation freeze in fear at his face, then isn't the outward appearance more important? Zuko can barely go one entire speech without someone going white in the face, probably remembering the parallels between Zuko and his father.

Sokka details Zuko's face and lists all of the ways Sokka is _obviously_ more handsome. That gets a laugh out of Zuko, because the facial diagrams and notes were hand drawn and Sokka's penmanship and drawing prowess have not improved since they were teenagers.

He doesn't send a letter to Toph. Earthbending, nor lack of sight can't help with his dilemma.

Zuko does not need to worry Iroh. His Uncle has fought and lost and fought, and is having a well-deserved rest in the Upper Rings of Ba Sing Se in his tea shop.

But it feels suffocating, excruciatingly so when he wakes up and stares at himself in the mirror. He still gets a little jolt of fear, but that subsides when he presses a hand to the scar on his face. It is the only thing grounding him.

This leads him down a train of dark thoughts.

What if he was never burned by Ozai?

Then maybe it would be not just someone who looked like Ozai staring at him from the mirror. Perhaps he would have grown up twisted and cruel, like his sister after him. The thought scares him, more than he would like to admit, and more than he would ever confide in Mai.

Zuko writes to Hakoda.


	2. You're Twice The Man, I Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured this was a sweet way to wrap it up and I hope you guys will think so too :)

Hakoda has visited the Fire Nation before, when they were first celebrating Ozai's defeat. It has been four years since then, and he has been busy with reparations in the Southern Water Tribe, along with new trade routes. It is a very busy time.

He hasn't really been too concerned about Zuko, if he was being honest. But the few times he thought of the scarred teen, unwanted feelings of sadness and grief came over Hakoda, parental feelings that he was sure Zuko did not want.

The Fire Lord is twenty years old now. He doesn't need Hakoda anymore.

Right?

But out of the blue, a messenger hawk had been brought to him in his office. It had been terribly unruly, and had nipped more than once at the guard's gloved hands. It was pure Fire Nation, with its red and yellow feathers accompanied with the Royal Family emblazon on the letter tied to his talon.

The letter had been long, and filled with meaningless words of praise and greetings that Hakoda skimmed over. He was all too used to the sickening salutations in noble letters, along with their manipulative promises.

But at the end of the majorly useless letter, there was a line that was not masked with anything, but perhaps a cry of help.

The line at the bottom read:

_Visit soon. Please._

Perhaps that was the most unnerving sentence of all.

—-

Hakoda shrugged off the coat he'd been wearing. Fire Nation was warmer then he'd thought.

He felt keenly out of place after he left the ship in his blue and white Water Tribe garb, a huge contrast to the black and red clothes of the Fire Nation.

A pair of guards approached him, and Hakoda involuntarily tensed. Out of old instinct or whatever, he did not know. "Chief Hakoda?"

"That's me."

"Come. The Fire Lord has summoned you." They did not look particularly happy. On the contrary, they looked positively-well, _not happy_. They exchanged glances after Hakoda straightened himself and boldly replied, "take me to him."

Hakoda attempted to make small talk along the way. "How's Zuko?"

"You will refer to the Fire Lord by his title."

Hakoda frowned, storing away that information. "Oh, alright. How's the Fire Lord doing, then?"

"He's doing fine." The tightness of the guard's voice told him otherwise.

The last time he had seen Zuko had been at his coronation. Hakoda still remembered the rush of strange fear he had felt, as the headpiece was placed on Zuko's head. He was sure the people around him felt it too.

Their Fire Lord was a new person with the same looks as Ozai, and it changed almost everything. Well, not exactly. Zuko's face had still been young and a distinct roundness in his face that set him apart from Ozai, to say nothing of the burn warping his face.

The halls are suspiciously empty and there is no one to distract Hakoda from the dust gathering on the small statues they pass, and the curtains which have not been pushed open.

Those thoughts became nothing more than muddled flashes once the guards brought him into the Fire Lord's office.

At first, Hakoda didn't even know there was someone there. He looked around the office, many scrolls and bound books placed quite randomly around the room on the floor and on the mahogany desk, and Hakoda almost had a heart attack when a black-haired, golden-eyed, sharp-faced looking man popped his head up between the books and scrolls.

"Oh. Thanks for bringing the Chief here, Ling, Ayu-"

But the guards were gone, without so much as a dismissal from the Fire Lord. Not very polite, nor rule-abiding, really. Leaving Hakoda standing there, face-to-face with a changed person. Someone he knew as a boy, who had grown into a man.

Zuko hadn't changed like Hakoda thought he would. Sure, he had grown taller, not to mention a definite curl in his lip, _obviously_ inherited from Ozai-but no, Zuko's skin had turned greyer, the bags under his eyes darker. It looked like his scar had stayed the same, if not become more prominent.

Hakoda thought burns were supposed to fade away with time.

The Fire Lord's hair was in a simple half-up topknot, so reminiscent of the past tyrant that had ruled the Nation. Zuko ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. "Uh, hi."

Zuko cleared his throat awkwardly. Hakoda didn't speak. "Well, have a seat? Please, and um-yes, thanks. Thank you." He blinked rapidly, as if trying to remember something obvious. "Ah-you're probably wondering why I called you, sir, I'm really sorry to bother you-"

His voice had grown deeper just like Sokka's, but that was where it ended. Zuko's voice had gone more gravelly and dark, unlike Sokka's effortless wit and laughter that trailed him everywhere.

"It's alright, Your Majesty" Hakoda smiled at the Fire Lord, like he totally _wasn't_ curious about why he had been called to the Fire Nation on such a short notice.

Zuko laced his thin fingers together, more of his long hair falling in front of his face. His hair was not the inky black that was cherished among the Fire Nation. It was accompanied with stray strands of early greys and whites, shocking Hakoda more than anything, really. Hakoda himself still had a majority of brown hair, something he prided himself on.

"Yeah. Yes. I mean-" Zuko looked around, as if suddenly realizing the mess his office was. "Oh, dear-we should talk somewhere else, I think-"

Hakoda let Zuko take him to a balcony, probably one of many. Perhaps he should have been wary of the Fire Lord but he's seen Zuko cry in his sleep enough times that when he looks at Zuko now, four years later, he feels emotions of actions he should have taken earlier.

"Well, I'm not too good at talking, Chief Hakoda, but, um-I'm sorry for bothering you, I really am, it's not too big of a problem and if you think it is you can leave, please don't worry-"

The kid was apologizing to Hakoda for something that he wouldn't even tell Hakoda about.

Zuko tilts his head up in the soft light of the evening, and his hair falls away, behind him. His face is too old on a body that is too young with a mind that just wants to sleep.

Hakoda is standing on Zuko's right side, so rather than getting an eyeful of the warping red scar on his left, he sees Zuko's pale skin and how he grits his teeth, to say nothing of the high cheekbones favoured by the Fire Nation.

"It's not like you're being compared to your father, right?" This comment is low and barbed and uncouth and downright disrespectful, and Hakoda prays it is false. He would rather Zuko laugh, or perhaps brush it off, but the Fire Lord grows paler and his hands grab the banister of the balcony and his knuckles are white. Zuko doesn't need to reply.

"..I'm right?"

"..Yep. Yes. Yes, you are."

There's nothing to be said, so Hakoda does the next best thing.

He rushes toward Zuko, and the Fire Lord stiffens, in a way that is heartbreakingly sad, and he opens his mouth, perhaps to question what Hakoda's going to do, but he doesn't get the chance when the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe envelops the Fire Lord in a tight hug.

Hakoda holds on to Zuko, and the twenty year old is rigid, not comprehending the action.

Zuko is taller than him and the hug is somewhat awkward, but Hakoda is fine. He's raised two teenagers.

He can raise another, even if it's a little too late.

"You're not your father." Hakoda murmurs softly. "You're Zuko. You'll always be Zuko to me, to Aang, to Katara, to Sokka, to Toph, and to everyone else that's lucky enough to know you."

Hakoda loosened his arms, preparing to step away but suddenly Zuko whispers something in a small voice. "..Don't leave. Please-I'm really sorry, just-can you hold on? Just a little longer-"

Hakoda smiles, but Zuko can't see it. "Sure thing, Zuko."

They take a seat next to the balcony, and Zuko leans his head against Hakoda's chest like he's a child.

Perhaps, just for a moment, Hakoda can give Zuko a feeling of the childhood he should have gotten, instead of the one that he endured.

When the Fire Lord falls asleep, Hakoda brings him back to his rooms.

\---

Hakoda meets Zuko in the afternoon, the next day, after a meeting.

There's a quartet of Earth Kingdom ambassadors leaving, and from the looks on their faces the meeting did not go well. Their faces are tight and sour, expected of old men but no, their faces are uncharacteristically pale for the Earth Kingdom, they are _scared_.

Hakoda shouldn't have expected everyone to love Zuko the day after he came to the Fire Nation. All he did was comfort a sad young man. He hadn't done anything to soothe the citizen's fears.

Well, he can't exactly do that. That is up to Zuko and only Zuko.

So Hakoda simply watches as Zuko goes about his daily duties.

For a lonely Fire Lord, his daily duties are a lot.

But he's not completely lonely. Hakoda has the pleasure of meeting Lady Mai, a noble who has assisted (and hindered) his children during their adventures. She's stoic and mature, more so then any teenager he's met to an alarming degree.

"Zuko thinks too much about the little things" Mai says in her dull voice. "I'm sure you know what I mean."

"I was always taught that little things can snowball into larger problems" Hakoda replies tactfully. He can't really disagree with her. "He must have a lot on his mind, being the Fire Lord and all."

"He does" Mai agrees. "But it's taking a toll on him. Even Ty Lee can't act cheery around him."

If memory serves right, Ty Lee is the rather acrobatic chi-blocker that stood at Mai and Azula's side. Hakoda doesn't remember much about her personality, though. "Hm."

"You'll guide him, won't you?"

"I-sorry?"

"I _said_ " Mai repeats, "you'll guide him, won't you, Chief Hakoda?"

Hakoda leans back in his chair. He blinks, slowly. "What gives you so much leeway with the Fire Lord?"

"Sharing a childhood, more or less. Trying to capturing the Avatar. Simple things. You haven't answered my question."

"I'm a Chief. I have other things to do."

"Advisor Bato can do those things for you."

"No he can't. He's not a Chief."

"I didn't ask for him to be one. Just stay a little longer. Guide him, will you?" She takes a long sip from her tea cup. "Zuko doesn't exactly appreciate Iroh's attempts to help. I'm sure you know the other members of the Royal Family are...not _fit_ to help either."

Hakoda has always wondered how Fire Lord Ozai managed to warp a fourteen year old girl into one of the most feared faces around the world. He knows it is not good.

"Can't you help, Mai?"

She lifts a perfect eyebrow. "What makes you think I'm not?"

He sighs. "Good point. But the thing is-Zuko's an adult, you see. He's not that quiet sixteen year old I met four years ago."

" _Quiet_ Zuko? Never heard of him."

Hakoda does not know that he'll be cajoled and wrangled by Mai (and later, Ty Lee) to stay for another week.

And then another.

At least Zuko seems happy.

When he finally gets back to the Southern Water Tribe, a frazzled Advisor Bato smacks him across the head.

—-

Zuko can't travel often. Being Fire Lord has certain limits, after all.

But after quite some time on the throne, he needs a break. Desperately. After the barest nudge from Sokka and Katara, Zuko is aboard Appa, travelling to the Southern Water Tribe with the Avatar. It is good to see a familiar face.

"Can't wait to have some of their food! Did you hear, Zuko? The South's been abundant in new greens!" Even as a young adult, Aang has still retained a childish manner. It is refreshing from the strictness of the Fire Nation.

"Oh, really?" Zuko says distractedly. He's not visiting the South for vegetables. He's visiting the South to see someone.

"Yeah!"

When they land, he slides off Appa with less dignity than he would like but it doesn't matter.

Zuko, clad in complete Fire Lord regalia, launches himself at the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe. Zuko wraps his arms around the stunned Hakoda.

And he whispers in the Chief's ear. "Thank you."

\---

Zuko is twenty-nine when his daughter Izumi is born. He has grown stronger and wiser, and yet there is still a small despicable part of him that is pathetically grateful Izumi takes after her mother in looks.

Mai knows this and she kisses his cheek. "Just you wait, Zuko. She'll be prattling on about honour any time now." They laugh as Izumi blinks uncomprehendingly.

The Fire Lord cares for Izumi as she grows up loved in a rich palace, and carries her on his shoulders through the Royal Gardens. He teaches her how to feed the turtle-ducks, and when she asks about her relatives he keeps his answers deceptively simple.

_Your grandfather is away._

_Your aunt is away._

_Your grandmother is away._

He can't keep it up for long, though. Izumi grows up to be a sharp-minded person and honourable person, someone Zuko is proud of every single day.

She has Mai's structure, but he swears she has a little fire inside of her, something quite akin to his own little personality.

Not Ozai's.

He is Zuko. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da! This is probably my favourite head canon so far :) it just makes me feel nice

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like Uncle wouldn't be much use in a crisis like this, because, well, he's Zuko's Uncle and Ozai's brother. He can't just lie to his nephew. But an outsider like Hakoda would seem a lot more reassuring. I hope you guys like this!


End file.
